Temperatures in Derry this week reached the unbelievable heights of the 20s – yes, nothing for those currently baking in Dubai, but a massive adjustment for folk used to cooler climes. And while local people suffer in the heat and look for amusing ways to survive the weather before the reality of Irish skies returns with a vengeance, there have been quite a few visitors swarming around the town. Summer brings people from all over the world to this small section of Northern Ireland with our fascinating history, interesting and friendly people, and distinct scenery. As I drove through the city centre last Friday morning I noticed many small groups of what were clearly tourists; furnished with sunglasses, big cameras and strange hats, gazing politely around them in quiet interest. One group was hovered around a local memorial dedicated to those killed during the troubles. Others were huddled together looking at a wall while a tour guide related the story of the unique murals that have brought political vibrancy and poignancy to the Bogside - a focal point of conflict in Derry for decades.

As I took in the scene of scatterings of people from different countries standing around looking at parts of history that have shaped my own as well as every other individual’s life on this island, I initially let out a howl of laughter at the absurdity of it. It was absurd to me that people were viewing these artefacts and memorials as if they were old relics from hundreds of years ago, the last remnants of a time alien to most of them. Yet the history of this country is still being written every day; the legacies of the actions of the people honoured in those murals and memorials, are felt as strongly today as they will do 30 or 50 years from now.

As a city that has a colourful history of violence for the past 50 years, there has been a rise in such ‘war or conflict tourism’, in which people take guided tours of places of interest that were pivotal in times of war or conflict. In Derry, we have a museum dedicated to Bloody Sunday, which is hauntingly beautiful. As you pass through the artefacts that lead visitors through the tragic events of that fateful day, playing overhead is a recording that was made on the day by local reporters, which captures the tension and uncertainty of the people caught up in the chaos. It is vital to have such a place for people to learn the truth of what happened that day and the stories of the people who suffered for decades because of it. It teaches people the importance of challenging those in power even though they try to keep you silent and call you a liar.

However, I’m not so confident of the type of tourism that brings groups into the hearts of communities that are still living through the effects of a difficult history and which presents the murals, the memorials and the buildings as something to be consumed by them, rather than the authentic impulse towards art and symbolism, of hope and hardship that they represent for us. These murals, memorials and memories belong to the people who lived through and are still living through the effects of the troubles. Exposing them in this way could dilute them, erode their impact, turn them into something that is no longer of the people and for the people, but for economic gain.

Although we should be proud of what we have achieved as a nation, people will always be interested in areas of conflict and drawn to them, and there will always be those who use this to their advantage, whether with good intentions or not.

Christina Curran is a journalist currently studying a Masters in International Relations at Queen’s University, Belfast.